Forgive me, Brother
by leslie.borle
Summary: A quick skit I wrote while wracked with grief. Please review so I can improve my writing!


"Forgive me, Brother, for I have sinned."

Sebastian hesitated. He was grabbing for another arrow for his daily archery practice in the Chantry's garden when he heard her voice. He allowed his hand to slowly descend to his side as he spun in place to face the voice, bow still in hand. _What is she doing here?_

"Hawke?"

"Hello, Seba - Brother Sebastian," she said, uncertain of how to address him in this capacity. She seemed. . . well, not scared or shy, exactly, but insecure was perhaps the word. "I have never done this before. My family always avoided Chantries because of the Templars. What do I do?"

"Hawke, what are ye doin' here?" Sebastian asked. "The confessional is inside. There are Sisters waitin' te take yer confession nearby. Always are."

"I don't want to talk to them. I don't know them. I want to talk to you."

She stood, staring at the ground, kicking up dirt with her foot, and wringing her hands. There was a need in her voice, something Sebastian had never heard from her. He never thought he would hear it from her. She was too strong. She was the Champion of Kirkwall, an unwavering force of will, wits, and blades. All that was going through his head was _Hawke is broken. Fix it. She's broken._

"Alright, Hawke. Let's move te the other side of the garden fer more privacy."

The word "broken" kept going through his mind. He bowed his head and outstretched his arm towards an alabaster bench near the very back of the garden.

She walked unsteadily towards the bench, nearly collapsing onto it. She leaned forward and bowed her head, quietly reciting what little of the Chant of Light she found comfort in:

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me

I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm.

I shall endure.

What You have created, no one can tear asunder."

Sebastian came and sat beside her on the bench, resting his bow against the rose bush beside the bench. She kept reciting the Chant. He wanted to place a comforting hand on her back, but he wasn't sure of how she would react. He mimicked her position and clasped his hands together in prayer. He began to recite the Chant with her.

"Though all before me is shadow,

Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

I shall not be left te wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

Fer there is no darkness in the Maker's Light

And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

Hawke raised her head to the sky and looked at the sky in desperation. She recited the next verse of the Chant.

"I am not alone. Even

As I stumble on the path

With my eyes closed, yet I see

The Light is here."

"The Canticle of Trials?" he asked, surprised that she knew even that much of the Chant. She had never been to vespers, or even stepped foot in a Chantry before her time in Kirkwall.

Hawke looked to Sebastian, tears beginning to form.

"Is it? Is the Light here? Is the Maker here? Does He even care? I feel nothing but the excruciating pain from the loss of my – my mother."

Hawke inhaled sharply, as if she were in physical pain. From her expression, Sebastian wouldn't have been surprised if she had a wound of some sort. He visually scanned her for injuries or blood, and finding none, his gaze returned to her face. Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. His heart longed to comfort her.

"I have never once questioned my faith. Not when my father died. Not when I lost Bethany, or Carver. One by one, everyone I love has been stolen from me. My mother. . . . She deserved to go to the Maker in a better way, undefiled by that repulsive blood mage," she said, shaking with rage at the memory of Quentin. "I have never been genuinely pleased to kill someone, but that sick bastard deserved it, may his soul be cursed to the Void. Forever!"

Her clenched fist pounded into the bench with such force that she left blood on the white stone. _Stay strong. Stay calm. For Hawke._ Sebastian calmly took her hand and forced each finger to uncurl, leaving bloody fingernail marks in her palm, and took a red strip of cloth from one of the many pockets on his belt. He muttered the Chant under his breath as he went about bandaging her new wounds. She looked down with muted interest as he worked, and watched as he got up and wet another strip of cloth in a nearby fountain, returning to clean the blood off the bench. _Be patient. Let her talk this out._ He simply cleaned her fingernails and held on to the cloth, waiting for her to continue.

"What do you do when you feel you've lost faith? Where do you go? What do you do?"

"You seek help. You find friends who will stand by yer side while ye recover. You go te the Chantry, and ye listen te the Chant. You keep busy and ye pray. A lot. That is all I know te do, Hawke," Sebastian answered, trying to keep his voice steady. It was hard watching the woman he secretly pined for unravel before his eyes.

Her eyes sparked a little.

"Will you be that friend? The one who stays beside me, even when I crack?"

"Yes. I swear it."

His heart rate picked up a little. Did he say that too quickly?

"Good. I need someone responsible to keep me from doing dumb things."

"Like injuring yerself?" He jested, hoping that spark meant that she was returning, for a time, from her melancholy.

"Like injuring myself. Thanks, by the way," she said with the barest of grins ghosting across her features.

They sat there in silence for a good half hour, Hawke having retreated back into herself, and Sebastian carefully watching her and their surroundings for any signs of danger. _Patience. Calm. Stay strong._ He began silently praying that she would return to herself sooner rather than later.

"Sebastian?" Her voice tore through the silence.

"Hm?"

"How did you handle the deaths of your family members?"

"Honestly?" He asked. She nodded and he looked into his clasped hands and took a steadying breath before continuing. _Honesty._ "I retreated from the Chantry, anger tainting mah every thought. I couldn't focus on the Chant or help others when I was in that state."

He looked at her to try to assess what she needed. _More. She needs to hear more._ "Mah hate festered until ye came into mah life and told me ye had taken care of the mercenaries that had taken mah family from me."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I helped then."

He looked up into her face. She had a compassionate look in her eyes and she glanced down at his hands for only a second. She pried his hands apart and took them into her own, interlacing their fingers. He tried not to let it show that his heart gave another start at the contact. She gave him a sad smile.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

She released his hands and stood up. His eyes tracked her movements, watching, waiting. _In case she needs to be caught,_ he told himself. She began to walk away but abruptly stopped, turning to him with a smirk.

"By the way?"

"Hm?"

"Your aim was off."

She left him grinning like a fool in the Chantry garden. She was starting to be her old self again. Barely. And his heart soared at the thought.


End file.
